


Come Under the Covers

by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)



Series: PSon Fluff Bingo [3]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Age Difference, Established Relationship, Finale spoilers, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Older Man/Younger Man, PSon Fluff Bingo, Post-Season/Series 01 Finale, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, the Gil/Jessica kiss never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys
Summary: Malcolm refuses to leave Gil's bedside.(For the square "We need to talk" on my bingo card.)
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Series: PSon Fluff Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733158
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	Come Under the Covers

Malcolm spends every night in the hospital, curled up in the chair next to Gil’s bed, taking comfort in being able to reassure himself that he’s still alive at any given moment. His mother makes sure he eats. She brings the food herself most days and hangs around until he finishes it. She prods him into changing clothes, too, and generally taking care of himself. It’s obvious that she wants to say something, but she refrains, probably because of the grief he can feel written all over his face.

The nurses were also initially wary about him staying, but it didn’t take much to convince them. Just one look at Malcolm with the dark bags under his eyes and pinched look on his face while he quietly explained that he’s pregnant was enough. 

He’s not showing yet. In fact, he only found out while trying to track down Eve’s killer, after Gil told him to run, after Malcolm himself sent his lover off to _die_. It’s the only reason his mother is alive and well, of course, and so he can’t regret it entirely. He still can’t help but imagine what else he could have done, however. He could have insisted Gil come with him. The older man could have sat with him while he waited for his test results to show. They could have found out _together_. 

But none of that would have happened. Gil couldn’t run off with a fugitive. He already took a big risk in helping Malcolm get away. And Malcolm himself? He never would’ve left his mother to Endicott, and Gil is the one he trusted the most to get her out. It was always going to shake out this way.

Kissing Gil’s brow, Malcolm gets back into the chair and wraps an arm around his still flat middle. He sleeps, fitfully.

~

A hand gently brushes his hair out of his face. His nose scrunches up as his eyes flutter open. He expects to see his mother, her face twisted in worry, a bag of food in hand. 

Instead, it’s Gil.

Malcolm sits up, startled. “When—?”

“An hour ago,” he says, voice a little rough from disuse. “I asked them not to wake you, kid. You looked like you needed the sleep.”

His eyes sting as the tears well up, and Malcolm is quick to wipe at them, laughing weakly. “Can’t say I’ve gotten much lately.”

Gil smiles, his eyes crinkling. He reaches out and grips his lover’s hand as tight as he can. “The doctor said I’ll be fine.”

Malcolm nods. He talked with the doctor, too. He knows the projected healing times, when Gil should be able to go back to work, what kind of physical therapy and special accommodations he’ll need in the meantime. None of it stops him from worrying. The doctor couldn’t quite tell him when Gil would wake, just that he would when his body was ready. Even his healing will depend on Gil himself. As much as his lover constantly reminded him to take care of himself and let his body heal, Malcolm knows he’ll be just as frustrated with being on leave. 

The only time he’s ever taken an extended time off was after Jackie died.

Gil squeezes his hand. “You still with me?”

“Sorry,” Malcolm says, flushing. 

Gil strokes his hand with his thumb. “Don’t worry about it.” He clears his throat. “Did you catch Endicott?”

_Catch_ him? Gil must not have picked up his phone at all in the hour he’s been awake. Malcolm bites his lip and swallows. He was _so_ ready to shoot Endicott, half convinced that Gil wouldn’t survive his injuries, that all he would have left of him was their child. Neither his sister nor the man holding her hostage knew about the clump of cells growing in his womb, but both of them knew he cared about Gil. His lover wasn’t safe. It was either Malcolm or Endicott.

And for his child’s sake, it had to be Malcolm. For _Gil’s_ sake. 

“Ainsley got him,” he says eventually. “We won’t have to worry about him paying his way out of a sentence. Look, we need to talk.” He winces as the words escape him. There are so many better ways he could have put that, _should_ have put that. He just needs Gil to know about their child. He can’t keep this to himself any longer.

Thankfully, Gil knows him. He takes a long look at Malcolm before he says a word, and when he does, a simple _go ahead_ , he smiles reassuringly. 

Malcolm caresses Gil’s hand one last time before pulling away to shift the chair closer to the bed. He takes his hand again then and guides it to his stomach. “I took a few tests while I was gone,” he says softly, keeping an eye on his lover’s face. They haven’t talked about kids. They haven’t talked about much in regards to a more serious relationship, honestly, but he knows that Gil has a soft spot for children. He knows that Gil is great with them, was great with _him_ the night they met. He’ll be an amazing father.

Immediately, Gil’s smile widens, practically splitting his face. His eyes, still crinkled, shine with tears, and Malcolm’s gaze goes blurry with tears of his own. “ _Malcolm_ ,” he murmurs, choked up. He makes no move to pull his hand away. He looks down briefly, but then his attention is back on Malcolm. On the man carrying his child. “God, I love you, kid.”

“I love you, too,” he says thickly. He can feel his smile wobbling. “I was terrified I wouldn’t get to tell you.”

“You did, and you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” Removing his hand, Gil carefully shifts over in the hospital bed, wincing to Malcolm’s horror. 

Malcolm stands. “Gil, you _just_ had surgery.”

“We can talk about how we’re both hypocrites later,” Gil says, his smile tinged with pain. He pats the small space he’s created. “That chair can’t be comfortable.”

It isn’t. Especially not after spending days in it, sleeping there, only ever getting up to go to the bathroom. There’s enough space in the bed for Malcolm to curl up against him. All he has to do is be careful not to put pressure on his wounds. He toes off his shoes.

Gil wraps an arm around him as soon as he crawls in, holding him close, revelling in the contact. He kisses Malcolm’s hairline.

It’s everything Malcolm has been desperate for in the days since coming back to the city, since seeing his lover limp and unconscious in his hospital bed. He didn’t even realize just how tired he was until now. He falls asleep this way, in Gil’s arms, his flat stomach between them. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to Kate for making me my card 😘


End file.
